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“But, compared to the great monk… I’m… not great.”
It’s true. He’s not anywhere near what he knows from reading as The Wise One, he who elegantly walks as if air flowed under his feet, he who carried his treasure trove of knowledge and power and wielded it for the greater good, he who diligently worked all day, every day.
Tang knows he’s not at all like that of the great monk Tang San Zang, despite it being… a previous life, or reincarnations, or whatever Sandy and Pigsy were on about.
He’s just… Tang. Clumsy Tang, with poor weak ankles and an insatiable appetite for noodles, Tang the procrastinator who always crammed, never studied; Tang who was powerless.
It’s a realisation that he’s learnt to cope with. It’s okay.
-
Pigsy knows it’s not okay.
Nothing will ever convince him that Tang didn’t mean what he said with all his heart when he said it. He’d learnt that “with every convincing lie, there holds a segment of truth”.
So Tang may brush it off, or whatever, and say that he’s just joking but Pigsy knows better; he knows Tang.
He’s seen what Tang does. Heck, the guy comes by to his noodle shop without fail every day , his number one customer-slash-critic ever since he opened his shop. Even when he’s busy, even if he was cramming for an exam, he’s never missed a single day of coming in.
And yes, Pigsy always acts annoyed that Tang gets free food, because he’s really not one to give some guy free food, but this, he, isn’t just some guy .
From the moment he walked in Pigsy knew there was something about him. Even with the… dorky glasses, and accidentally tripping, landing face first on his clean kitchen floor the day they had opened.
Call him a sap, or whatever, he just knows Tang would become a special person in his life, and oh, he did. He truly did.
And now, he’s just… down about himself. So sure about being weak and useless to others that he doesn’t think about anything else. He hates it. He hates what Tang’s low self-esteem has made him think.
If he’s being honest, Pigsy was pretty sure he’d be willing to give Tang free bowls, infinite supplies of noodles if it meant that he would, for once , believe in himself.
He knows he can’t really convince him that, not for a long time, at least.
But one step at a time never hurt anyone.
“Hey.” he starts, and it sounds weird to his ears but he has to continue, “you’re pretty great to me, Tang.” he looks up at the mighty figures, Tang San Zang; and continued, “besides, your story ain’t over. Not yet.”
Tang’s face turns away from him to look at his past reincarnation, and Pigsy can see the smile slowly forming on his face; he smiles, and so does Pigsy, but he knows Tang believes half of that shit at the most.
-
Tang lies awake in their shared bed, blinking up into the night sky.
They’d snuggled up together nice and warm, the adrenaline from the exciting fight, fading, and the exhaustion setting in.
In those sleep-inducing moments, he couldn’t help but replay the days before this, over and over and over and-
Honestly, in moments where he thought that they were going to die, Tang wanted to apologise.
I’m sorry.
For what? pretend-MK would ask Tang, the curious boy he had always been.
And Tang would have no words for him, because he knows MK would lie to him and tell him no, he’s useful but what would it do? He couldn’t help by doing anything, he was just a bystander in his story, not like Tang San Zang, the monk, the leader of the Journey To The West.
He was the one who set the ritual for the Samadhi Fire; he caused Mei to lose control and flee; he caused Sun Wukong, god forbid, the strongest guy of the group, to go running off on his own recklessly; he caused MK to go off after him and suffer the consequences with Nezha; he caused it, he set everything in motion, he -
Tang doesn’t realise that he forgets to breathe and sucks in a breath, only for it to get shallower, and shallower – what’s going on –
Muffled sounds of scrambling sheets echoes around him. His head is spinning; chanting: It’s your fault. You did this, all of this is your fault your fault your fault, could’ve been easier if you never interfered—
“Tangy! Breathe!”
Pigsy. I’m sorry.
A shuddering gasp rushes air through his lungs.
I’m sorry, MK, Mei, Sandy, Pigsy, all of them, I’m useless; what is my role in this stupid adventure anyways? I don’t know what I’m here for, what my purpose is, I-
*Gasp.*
“Tang, count w… me here.” He feels a hand on his shoulder; he’s not really hearing things right now, “One… two…”
* Gasp.*
Why is he here with me, I’m just the guy standing in his shop, freeloading off of his begrudging kindness and I don’t even help him with the shop-
“Three… Four…”
Pigsy, Pigsy’s here, Pigsy Pigsy Pigsy Pigsy Pigsy—
“I’m here. I’m here, Tang. C’mon, breathe for me. One…”
It’s a sudden moment where Tang’s brain halts in its tracks, goes blank, and a moment of clarity shines through; even without his spectacles, even through his tears, there he is.
Pigsy.
And Tang thinks he’s never seen Pigsy this concerned, least over him, of all people; because why should he?
But he is.
Brows furrowed in concern there Pigsy sits right in front of him, one hand on his shoulder, grounding him, comforting him. He’s only really seen that look when MK has a bad dream or worries about his friends a little too much.
It’s… nice. Somewhere in his heart clenches, squeezes at his conscience. Tang lifts his fingers to rub at his eyes; and finds the invisible tears that spill uncontrollably from him soaking into the sleeves of his pyjamas.
“You alright, Tangy?” Pigsy’s gruff, rough voice completely contrasts the concern in his words, his eyes reflecting some sort of sadness. As if he knew .
Tang nods. He doesn’t feel like talking, right now. He reaches for glasses resting on the nightstand, but Pigsy gets to it before he does, carefully slipping the frames onto his face.
Pigsy sets himself down onto the bed. “I’m here, Tang. It’s okay if ya don’t wanna talk, or whatever, just nod or shake your head. Whaddaya need?” He says casually, trying his best to lighten the mood.
Tang shrugs. Scratching his head, Pigsy shuffles through his options.
“Uhh… do you need water?”
A shake of his head.
“Want to be left alone?”
Widened eyes and a furious shake of his head. The fingers gripping the blankets seemed to tighten.
Okay, so that's a no.
“Uh… then… want a hug?”
Tang seemed to brighten up, so that’s a plus.
“Okay… hugs it is. Anything else? Need me to talk? Tell you a story?” Pigsy seemed to consider what to say, “How about… I talk about my shenanigans with Sandy back in the day, and you just lie back and relax?”
Tang loved stories, Pigsy knew that. Sandy and him had never really talked about their childhood, and boy, did that interest Tang; that nod could have easily taken his head off. Maybe it was all the Journey to the West stories…
“Okay, we can do that— Hey!” Pigsy got cut off as Tang, unthinking, launched himself into the demon’s arms — “Slow down, jeez.”
Tang only gave a hum in response, and nuzzled into him.
Even after all this time…
He hoped Tang couldn’t hear his heart pounding, but then again, it’s not like he’d be displeased.
“So when we were young, dumb and 16…“
-
The clock blinks. 2:00am.
Pigsy and Tang — well, mostly Pigsy — had been talking for an hour, or more, honestly, neither of them bothered to remember — and Tang was dozing off in Pigsy’s arms.
Distantly, Pigsy registers the numbness of his arm and his legs willing itself to move; but Tang’s tugging on it, and their legs are tangled up, and suddenly he finds himself succumbing to the lock he has on him.
He doesn’t mind.
“Y’know, Tangy.”
“Mhmm?” He blinks sleepily, almost drifting off to sleep.
“You’re… amazing.”
“Mhmm…” Tang reiterates, but his tone told Pigsy all too well that, like last time, little was believed to be true.
“I’m serious, Tang!” Why can’t he get it through his brain? Is this what being faced with a stubborn person felt like? Jeez, suddenly he felt extremely sorry for the kids.
“Mhmm.”
God, damn it.
“Can’t you see you’re so strong in your own, unique way, Tang? If only you saw yourself the way I see you.” Pigsy redirects his gaze from the top of Tang’s fluffy hair to the view outside the restaurant’s window, “There’s so much you’re capable of, don’t deny it. You should be proud of yourself, ya know.”
A pause.
“You know, I’ve been thinking about what you’ve done for us. Look at what you’ve done so far, because you should know that you got all that power inside you. Seeing the ritual start with… whatever you did with that scroll, and the Samadhi Fire, you have the smarts for it, clearly, because I sure didn’t understand a single thing in there, you’re the smartest guy I know. At least, y’know, without you, and your extensive knowledge and— what did those scholars call it again — ah, expertise —- in the Journey to the West chronicles, or whatnot, heck, we’d probably be dead by now! So you kinda saved our asses many times. And you can be that whatever food critic you always pose as all you want in my restaurant but while you’re in my company? I’m not letting you go all “food-critic mode” on yourself. You get me?”
Pigsy tears his eyes from the reflection of them in the window as Tang shifts to face him, and oh, god, Tang has never looked at him like this, this fucking cute face, his eyes sparkling in the moonlight, a faint pink dusted across his nose.
He realises that he kinda just made this cheesy declaration in front of Tang and oh, no, that’s embarrassing, and he feels his face getting hotter by the second— “I- I mean!-” he starts, “Just don’t underestimate yourself okay?!” Pigsy scrambles off their shared bed, “I’m getting us water. Go to sleep, I got work tomorrow!”
As Pigsy disappears around the corner, Tang sits up. The glasses on his face lopsided, he removes them; places them on the nightstand.
A gleam of metal shines brightly in the moonlight.
In the silence, Tang’s face softens as he takes the metal loop in his hand, feels the coolness of the ring, and pulls it close; where it belonged, right next to his heart.
Yeah. He’s going to be alright.
-
Epilogue
He may never become the “great Tang San Zang”, ever.
Tang knows that.
But what he also knows is that his past incarnation did have flaws. And strengths, and so did he.
Tang San Zang may have stronger ankles. Be smarter, be more confident than him. Greater. He knows Tang San Zang has grown, too, from forsaking mortal connections to having a group of his own, together, travelling on their great adventure to the West. He knows all about how they overcame all their challenges and continued to grow.
He knows he can do the same.
What is his strength? You may ask, because some dork who trips over his feet surely isn’t useful.
Well…
*BAM!*
“Kid, WATCH THE DOOR!”
“SORRY PIGSY!! GOTTA GO!!”
What he has now that Tang San Zang didn’t have back when he was training to be a monk is friends. Friends like MK, and Mei, and Sandy, and of course, his partner in crime, Pigsy.
He finds that he may not have much in prospects. But he finds that it’s enough; to grow with his friends is enough.
Tang looks down into the bowl of noodles reflecting his face, a smile he finds himself doing more and more often.
Pigsy is right.
His story isn’t over just yet.